The Best-Laid Plans of Mice and Men
by Dusk to Ashes
Summary: Omi's had enough of Yohji's teasing, and with Ken exacts his revenge. (Ken+Omi)
1. Frustrations and Plotting

Warnings: shounen-ai (Ken+Omi), long sentences, and it's my first Weiß fic so watch out ^^;  
  
The Best-Laid Plans of Mice and Men  
(Yohji: Heheheh...)  
  
"Kick it to me!" pleaded a young redheaded boy who couldn't have been more than eight years old. He exclaimed and jumped out of the way as the combined efforts of three other boys whose ages added up to something like 27 sent the soccerball hurtling in a vague path that brought it dangerously near the pooy boy's face. Luckily, a pair of experienced albeit sweaty hands snatched the projectile from the air, preventing any permanent damage... for the moment. "Arigato, Ken-'niki!" the small child exclaimed, glomping onto the ex-J-leaguer's grass-stained shorts. The florist in question grinned as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, at the same time glancing up at the clear blue sky. He still had a while before his shift, but he knew he'd welcome the air-conditioning as soon as possible.  
As the little boy attached to his leg showed no sign of letting him go, Ken tossed his equally grass-stained soccerball back into the fray. Thankfully, he was released, and a second later the so-called game returned to its usual chaos. For most of the time, the kids all crowded around the ball, not allowing much in the way of progress in one direction or the other. So, Ken would steal the ball away and get it started heading towards one of the pairs of trees they had designated a goal, dissolving the clot of over-enthusiastic kickers. It was a temporary solution, but what could you do? They were, after all, having a lot of fun.  
Yohji leaned on the counter at the Koneko, so he was on eye level with a rather attractive brunette who apparently fit his incredibly high standard of "only those18 years of age and older." They appeared deep in conversation, the woman's flowers forgotten, and judging by her smile and the look in the older florist's eyes, Omi had a feeling he knew what was coming. He glanced breifly back at the African Violets he was watering before checking again on their lone customer's fate. With one hand, Yohji pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead, leaning in conspirationally towards the woman. Omi turned away and looked out a side window, sighing at the pause in conversation that marked the sealing of whatever date plan the flirtatious Yohji had set up. His mind wandered, trying to find the shape of that cloud or-  
CRASH! ...figure out how much replacing the window would cost while thanking God that no flowers had been harmed in the making of this chaos. The small florist sighed again in desperation.  
"Ken-kun!" Omi exclaimed without so much as turning around. "That's the third time this MONTH!"  
"Sumimasen, Omi-kun..." Ken said, leaning in through the broken window. After the exertion of youth soccer and running across a busy street after a certain round object, it was difficult to tell the sweatdrops from genuine sweat. Omi turned towards the shattered front window, one hand on his hips and the other waving at a broom and dustpan in the corner. "Demo, all those kids are waiting on me..." Ken did his best to appeal to Omi's not-mad-about-the-window-and-a-good-friend side. "Please?"  
"OK, OK, but hurry... your shift's coming up anyway. I'll take care of the glass..." Omi gave in to his friend, appreciating at least that it *might* have been the fault of someone besides Ken... He grabbed the broom and began to clean up, comforting himself with the thought that Ken now owed him one... or maybe eighty-one... as the athlete jogged back across the street to his charges.  
"How sweet! Cleaning up while he goes off to play... you'll make a perfect housewife, Omi-kun," remarked Yohji, who had apparently been watching the whole performance from his position leaning against the far wall. His "customer" had departed unnoticed a while ago. The playboy winked over his shades as he lit a cigarette. Omi, knowing better than to dignify such observations with a comment, stared out the "open" window at the area where Ken was entertaining his "team" by bouncing the ball on his head as many times as he could without dropping it. Taking a long drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling, Yohji continued, "Enjoying the view?"  
Omi continued to sweep up the glass, glaring but still refusing to look at Yohji. Ken was still going, his eyes wide and shining as he carefully judged the direction of the ball and moved accordingly, the hot sun sending a few salty droplets sliding down the smooth, tanned skin of his face and neck and into his shirt. The boys clustered around him looked on in awe.  
"Be a sport, Omi... I know you're jealous, but you don't have to glare at the poor kids..." Suddenly, Yohji was behind him, his left arm (cigarette in hand) around Omi's shoulders. "I'm sure Ken will play with you later... maybe he'll bring his soccer balls." Omi's face took on the pigmentation of Aya's hair, and he resisted the urge to hit Yohji with the broomstick then and there. Yohji, satisfied for the moment, slinked back towards the basement door, removing his apron and waving to the still-crimson teen. "My work here is done, he called around his smoke, looking back at Omi as he reached for the door- and ran smack into a pale-skinned someone with blood-red hair and a glare that put ice to shame. "Aya-kun!" he greeted, eyes arcing in feigned delight.  
"Yohji-kun," the fourth and final fearsome florist fired back flatly. Yohji tried to slip past him, but Aya turned around and continued, "Smoking inside, and during your shift, no doubt." At the blond's protest he added, "Put it out or take it outside, Yohji." Rolling his eyes, the disgruntled man headed for the front door, letting Ken step past him to come in before leaving the Koneko. Aya made a note to replace the window as he tied on his apron over his uniform orange sweater, figuring that Omi had handled punishment from Ken's apologetic looks. The althletic assassin dashed downstairs to clean up and grab some clothes that did not contain enough chlorophyll to rival the contents of the shop.  
Tsukiyono Omi had recovered from the initial shock and was now brooding over Yohji's latest suggestion witha vengeance. *It would serve him right if Ken and I did-* he shook his head quickly as if hoping to shake his thoughts into proper order. He threw away the last bits of shattered glass as a freshened Ken all but bounced over to greet a middle-aged womand and her two young children. *I wish someone, something would get Yohji to back off,* Omi thought ruefully, folding his apron as waving to the others as he went to his idea of how one should spend the weekend- his computer.  
~~~~A day or three pass here~~~~  
The mission had gone more or less smoothly. Omisupposed it was cause for raised spirits, but he couldn't help but turn his head as Aya and Ken cleaned blood from their weapons. Yohji stood a few meters away, finishing up a noose around the main target's neck.  
"Finished, Balinese?" Abyssinian inquired, resheathing his sword.  
"So impatient... can't I have a _little_ fun?" the wire-wielding kitten joked, walking back to the others and indicating a finished job. "Let's get outta here... last place we wanna end up is the doghouse (for getting to work late)." Aya ignored the joke as always; Ken hadn't been paying attention. He stared pityingly at Omi, but also in awe.  
*He can live through this and still hate the sight of blood... after spilling so much... amazing,* Ken thought. Aya nodded to himeself, probably tracing similar ideas. Yohji's mind, noting only Ken's stare, had fallen right back into the gutter as usual, but a slightly more purposeful stare from the katana-bearing Aya silenced him. Aya coughed, bringing everyone back to the present. "What was that about getting out of here, Balinese?"  
~~~~  
Around a half an hour later, the Weiß were back at the flower shop, tending to the few minor injuries Aya and Ken had sustained. Not surprisingly, Yohji had gone right to sleep and could sporadically be heard snoring through the open doorway. Aya, winding a bandage around his upper left arm, wondered if the tired blond had left the rest of them any extra pillows. He stood up and stretched, yawning in an almost scarily cute manner before leaving in serach of a shirt. Omi finished bathing the cuts on Ken's back, involuntarily wondering what inance advice Yohji would have to offer them if he were awake. Almost smugly, the seventeen-year-old traced his fingers over his friend's bare skin, half-daring the oldest member to walk in. Hidaka Ken shivered, forgetting for a moment his surroundings. Finally, he remembered himself, albeit groggily.  
"O-Omi-kun, whaaa-" Ken yawned midsentence. Omi half-blushed, also too tired to think clearly. In that moment, as he searched for a response, it came to him: the perfect plan. He could have his revenge on Yohji! It wouldn't even require preparation... he could try it tomorrow! Now all that was left was to explain it to Ken, and... Omi smiled.  
"Ken-kun, I have an idea."  
----------------------------------------------  
The other half's coming as soon as I can type it, I promise! As always, reviews are encouraging... especially since it's my first new fic in a long time, and my first Weiß fic.  
~Neko4~  
January 2002 


	2. Plans in Action

Here you go, and many thanks to CrystalStarGuardian and dragon-chan for actually reviewing it! ^_^ Now, of course, I get to feel guilty about disappointing everyone... again, this is the part with Ken+Omi, so don't say I didn't warn you... :D  
  
Part II  
----------------------  
Ken walked slowly around the Koneko, trying his best not to look bored and idle as Aya did the same behind the cash register. Summer saw a lot of tourists, yes, but it also saw many of their regular customers out of town. He was itching to get outside, but though the shift was almost over he still had Omi's plan to execute. Grinning, the vengeful soccer player turned to look at the basement door. It opened veeeery slowly, the light from the first story obviously blinding Yohji. Omi, however, was right behind him, making sure the tall and tired man didn't just turn around and go back to sleep. A glare from the boy a full 30 centimeters shorter than he quickly silenced his unintelligible grumbling as Yohji put on his apron.  
Moving out into the shop after retrieving his own work clothes, Omi noticed Ken, who had already flung his apron in the general direction of where it was supposed to be. Omi's eyes lit up as he rushed forward.  
"Ohayo, Kenken!" he greeted, glomping the obviously pleased older boy.  
"Hey, Omittchi," Ken said, hugging Omi with one arm and balancing some empty flowerpots in his opposite hand. Neither of them seemed to notice Yohji's jaw drop or Aya's rapid blinking. "Oi, now that he's awake, what did you want to show me?"  
"Come on, it's back here..." Omi replied, grabbing Ken's hand and dragging him towards the basement door. Yohji's mouth opened even wider and he rubbed his eyes as Ken blushed slightly. "I think I left it on my bed..." Ken grinned and turned to wink at the shocked men working the counter as Omi dragged him downstairs. He shut the door behind the to of them with his free hand, the flowerpots miraculously intact a few feet away where he'd set them down. Quickly recovering, Aya turned back to his work, automatically assigning himself to take over for Omi's shift. Yohji, too, came to his senses and became immediately suspicious- if it seemed too unbelievable, then it likely was. He wouldn't put it past Omi to *try* to trick him...  
"I think I'd better go talk with Omi-kun," he offered to Aya, his eyes not moving from the door. The red-haired lethal florist nodded, although his fellow employee by that time was halfway to the stairs, wiping his hands on his apron.  
As soon as the door was shut, Omi and Ken enjoyed a good laugh, the smaller boy sliding to the floor.  
"Did you see his face-?" Ken commented more than asked. "Priceless." After catching his breath, he congratulated his coconspirator on a plot well executed.  
"A victory, albeit short-lived..." At Ken's questioning look, Omi continued, "He'll be down here just as soon as he can come up with an excuse." The smaller boy shook his head slowly, but then stood up as if struck with another idea. "Ken-kun..." He searched for how to put it.  
"Let me guess- we should give him something to find?"  
"H-hai..." Omi blushed nervously, but Ken, seeing nothing to be embarrassed about- hey, it's all in the name of vengeance- walked towards the Koneko's bedroom, grinning again. The original mastermind ran after him. Shutting the next door behind them, Ken reached for his collar and did his best to mess up his clothes and hair. Omi slipped off his apron and timidly followed suit.  
"At this rate, I won't have to bother playing soccer," the athlete joked. "Now... to bed?" He laughed again, tossing the jacket at his wait to the floor.  
"If only Yohji-kun could hear us now..." Omi remarked, Ken's casual jests soothing his nerves. Hopping into his bed, he opened his mouth to make another joke but froze as he heard footsteps outside the door. "Hurry!" With one last glance at the door as the knob began slowly to click, Ken dove onto the bed, knocking Omi over underneath him and pushing one hand against the headboard.  
Three things happened at once then. The door swung open, Ken bent his neck to lower his head, and Omi tried to sit up. This combination led to a series of perhaps equally important reactions: the door slammed shut, as expected; Yohji got the shock of at the very least the past ten years if not his life, also as expected; and two pairs of soft, moist lips parted as their stunned owners wracked their brains for words. For a few long seconds the friends stared at each other, at a loss, their wide eyes locked, their bodies frozen. Then, in an instant, the image was shattered as they both burst into an apology.  
"No, no, it's okay- it was my fault, I suggested this-"  
"I shouldn't have tried to move... I didn't mean to-" To Omi's surprise, Ken laughed. "Ano, Ken-kun..."  
"Don't worry about it, Omi-kun; I guess it's what we get for plotting against the great Yohji... I just wish I could have seen his face just then, ne?" Omi agreed, smiling nervously. So, it hadn't upset Ken- it was just an accident, after all. Then why was Omi so... strange-feeling? Convincing himself it was the shock combined with the fun of getting Yohji back, a decidedly unbelievable occurrence, he turned to more important matters.  
"So, how are we going to break the news to him? Shall we wait until he's given Aya a full report?"  
"I vote we go back up there now, and maybe interrupt the said report," Ken replied, retrieving his jacket and retying it around his waist. Omi nodded, fixing his own clothes and vaulting out of the small bed. Trying again to dismiss the strange feeling haunting him, he walked back towards the stairs- and the work he'd been neglacting.  
~~~~  
Yohji took the news rather well; Aya's reluctance to lend the older man his katana contributed greatly. The swordsman even went so far as to adopt a decidedly amused expression as Yohji chased the much-shorter Omi around the Koneko with the very broom he'd almost been attacked with that past Saturday, Ken following behind in order to prevent _all_ of the displays being knocked to the floor. A few bruises later, Omi tied on his apron and joined a temporarily inactive but no less furious Yohji behind the counter, trying to ignore the other man's crossed arms and looks of disgust and rage.  
~~~~  
Omi tossed and turned in his bed, eyes closed but far from sleep. It wasn't that he wasn't tired; it was past midnight and running from an enraged broom-bearing assassin through a flower shop took a lot out of one. Finally, he opened his eyes, looking around the room at his "family." Aya slept silently in a corner, his face in shadow and his muscles tense against the sheets. Yohji, in the bed farthest from the door, lay on his stomach, his face towards the wall and his sheets tangled around his waist and legs with moonlight illuminating his bare skin. Omi sighed, wondering what time the sprawled-out man had gone to bed; it must have been during one of his half-dozen ten-minute naps.  
Ken stared at the ceiling, one arm above his head and resting on the pillow. He felt someone's eyes on him, and glanced to his left, where Omi lay. At first, the younger boy didn't notice the small movement, and so Ken had a moment to examine his expression. He was obviously tired, but there was something else there, almost- but by then, Omi had noticed and adjusted his face. Deciding to offer what assistance he could, the elder insomniac sat up and slid out of bed, kneeling next to Omi's as he might have a child who slipped in the grass.  
"Tired?" he asked, yawning. Omi nodded. "What're you thinking about?" he continued, sitting on his heels and leaning against the bed.  
"What happened tod- well, yesterday by now..." Something in the way Omi said it echoed strangely in Ken's mind, but he chalked it up to weariness and smiled at his tired companion.  
"I wonder how long Yohji's gonna be steamed over that... it was a real work of genius, 'Omittchi,'" Ken returned. Omi muttered something vague and rolled over so his pajama-clad back faced the would-be converser. "Nani?"  
"Never mind... I'm going back to sleep..." Something told Ken to persue the matter, however.  
"Come on, Omi-kun... if you were willing to say it once..." Reluctantly, the speaker in question turned back towards Ken.  
"I just said... that wasn't quite what I meant..." he admitted, stifling a yawn. Receiving no more motivation than a curious look, he closed his eyes. "Like I also said... I'm going back to sleep..." Ala, Ken was having none of it.  
"OK, as soon as you tell me what you _did_ mean."  
"Ken-kun..." Omi opened one eye just wide enough to gaze pleadingly at his interrogator, but the brown-haired boy wouldn't give in so easily. Finally, he continued, so quietly that Ken had to lean forward to hear. "I meant... when you... when we kissed before..." Banishing the lump in his throat, Ken apologized again but was cut off. "I... Ken-kun..." Omi's eyes had drifted shut, and he managed one last faint whisper before drifting off. "Kiss me again..." The strange feeling returned with a vengeance as Ken reddened... and then, slowly, closed the gap between them, soft skin touching once more. As he opened his eyes and pulled away, he saw that Omi's eyes were open, starlight reflecting in the blue. He heard, faintly, the whispered words "thank you," but he couldn't tell if the voice was Omi's... or his own.  
~~~~Owari~~~~  
::sniff:: Isn't it sappy? ;.; Oh, well... I'm addicted to the stuff! I just hope you liked it... review, please! I need the encouragement! ^_^;  
~Neko4~  
January 2002 


End file.
